Wake of the Dahlia
by Tomas the Betrayer
Summary: Lacking a scent, the influence of the Black Dahlia is still felt all throughout New Meridian. A trinity of chapters exploring the Skullgirls' formidable cyborg enforcer.
1. Trust Your Gut

A knock at the door. Shifting from behind it, followed by a voice demanding…

"State the password."

 _I hate feds._ Aloud, Officer Ben Birdland sullenly muttered, "Pigs in blankets."

The sound of a latch being drawn, the turn of a lock, and the door cracked open slightly. A cold unfriendly face with dark shades peered out at him for a moment before turning back around. "It's the delivery boy."

A few clicks of safeties being flicked on. His counterpart then opened the door just enough to let Ben squeeze by, at the same time making a big show of holstering his government-issued weapon back inside his coat. Officer Birdland was no more impressed by this display than he had been the first time. He shouldered past the sentry into the hotel room bearing his burden.

"One plain cheese, one vegetarian with black olives and roasted garlic, and another vegetarian, hold the…" Ben ground to a halt as he entered the main living area. "…the _heck?"_

"C'mon in, kid!" Wearing a plush white bathrobe, 'Dungaree' Joe D'Agostino waved an expansive hand holding a chicken wing. A half dozen unsmiling federal officers all dressed in the same suit-and-tie combination stood around him. This was nothing new. What had changed since Ben had been sent to pick up their lunch was a white-draped serving cart loaded down with all manner of dishes. There was a half-eaten roast chicken stuffed with apricots and raisins, crab legs still in the shell ready to be dipped in melted butter, baby cauliflowers covered in Hollandaise sauce, risotto with peas and shrimp, and the remains of a cake topped with melted dark chocolate.

As mouthwatering as this meal might have been, the way it was being eaten could turn a man's stomach. Dungaree licked his fingers before attacking the crustacean delicacy like he hadn't eaten in days. Sitting on the edge of the bed, their charge remained stripped down to boxers and t-shirt that did nothing to hide his hairy belly, both visibly stained with grease and other foodstuffs. His shiny bald pate had a few wisps of black hair combed over from the sides, flabby jowls covered in pockmarks and what looked like a week's worth of unshaved beard. Mean black eyes shone with the casual confidence of a lifelong predator. Other than Mafioso, Birdland had a hard time imagining what line of work such a person could possibly make a living at. Maybe he was just unduly prejudiced.

"I wasn't gone half an hour," the young policeman glowered around at his supposed colleagues. "If you were going to order food, why send me out at all?"

"We didn't." The agent ostensibly in charge, a guy virtually identical to his well-groomed colleagues and answering to the name of Earnest Nosegay, spoke from a chair against the wall. "It came by way of room service five minutes after you left."

"Room ser…" The obvious response first. "I didn't even know this flea-trap _had_ room service! And are you telling me you just let him eat food that _showed up on your doorstep?!_ What if it's poisoned, did you ever think about that?!"

At this Dungaree Joe laughed, an obnoxious braying that caused chewed bits to go spewing across the room. "You see that?" he leveled a crab leg at Ben while casting a meaningful look around at his federal bodyguards. "That right there is why I need you guys. If I had gone to the cops, they're so dumb, they'd prob'ly just arrest me! And then where would you be? Nowhere. Am I right?"

The mobster leaned forward, resting both elbows on his bony knees to fix the beat cop with a condescending sneer. "Listen up, junior. No Medici has ever killed nobody with _poison._ That's for skirts and pussies who can't pull a trigger! And you better believe Lorenzo Medici is not gonna be the first! If they want someone dead the way they want me, it's gonna be in a big, loud, _messy_ way! So everybody knows what's what. That's how we roll. But if you wanna shove your hand up that chicken's ass to see if there's a stick o' dynamite or somethin', be my guest. Otherwise pull up a chair and dig in! Your cheap-ass bosses finally sprang for some decent grub, and this spread ain't gonna eat itself!"

He went back to gorging without waiting for a response. Ben could hardly believe how cavalier this man acted. D'Agostino was no mere enforcer turned informant. He was a captain in the Medici crime family. Law enforcement had been chipping away at that powerful organization well before his own time, trying to get someone important to turn state's evidence, but never in his experience had they come close to landing a big fish of this caliber.

Now out of nowhere no less than Dungaree Joe comes waltzing up and turns himself into federal custody. Rumors as to why were in all the papers. Some said he had made a failed bid to overthrow the head of the family, Lorenzo Medici. Others claimed he extorted an astronomical sum of money from them and had made a deal with the government to keep it once the trial was concluded. Those more in the know simply hinted that Joe had been marked for 'early retirement' and got wind before the bullets started flying. Supposedly his whole crew had vanished overnight without a trace. Something told Ben they weren't all enjoying a well-deserved tropical vacation on Lorenzo's dime. More likely they were feeding the legless variety of fish down in Little Innsmouth. He resolved to steer clear of the cuisine in those parts for at least a few months. Couldn't be too careful.

It was true that the Medici would spare no expense to see their treacherous apostate in the ground, whether in terms of money or ammunition. Which was why the law had doubled down in terms of seeing to his protection. Currently they were in an interior suite on the 12th floor of an aging hotel located in the heart of midtown. Every single other room on this level had been cleared of guests, much to the management's fury. Joe was switched from one vacated room to another every day to keep people from knowing his exact whereabouts. Thirty armed men were stationed in the lobby, with nearly double that many on this floor. No precaution had been overlooked. D'Agostino was being kept out of the public eye, not allowed to leave unless it was to and from the federal courthouse where he was scheduled to testify next week. The risk was just too great. Joe didn't go anywhere without at least six well-armed tagalongs in tow.

Officer Birdland and three other members of his unit were on loan from their precinct. This was by no means a mark of trust. His sergeant had made it clear the feds looked upon them as being one step up from the very criminals they were attempting to bring down. At the same time, though, they wanted someone to blame in case things went south. Can't have their careers blemished by something so unimpressive as failure, after all. Which was why Ben tended to get the short end of the stick in this relationship.

To say that he was eagerly anticipating the end of this assignment did not do it justice. He might just welcome a full-on Medici assault if it meant not having to listen to D'Agostino carping about the quality of the food and his lack of personal amenities. Their precious star witness was not shy about decrying the living conditions he found himself enjoying this past month.

"Yo, junior," the man in question belched and skewered another cauliflower onto his plate. "Don't act all testy, yeah? Look, I'm sorry we sent you out for nothing. We'll eat the pizzas later. For now, siddown and keep an old man company. These damn cheap hotel rooms all look alike. Hell, there's not even a view 'cause these mopes are afraid somebody'll pick me off through the window! Hey, hey, how's this, I got a good one for you. What's the difference between a cop and a pig?"

Glaring down at the preening mobster, Birdland did not answer.

"Anybody? Any of you geniuses think you can guess? No?" Dungaree Joe chuckled and set about cutting himself another slice of cake. "One shits where it eats and rolls around in mud all day… but it's still cleaner than a cop!"

The mobster slapped his knee and howled with laughter, pausing only to belch a few more times. One of the agents actually chuckled a little, only to quickly stop when Nosegay sent a disapproving look his way. Ben could feel his face flush.

"Seriously, though, kid," D'Agostino chuckled, "let's bury the hatchet. How 'bout this: you want me to tell you which of the boys in blue that accompanied you here are dirty? 'Cause ol' Joe knows. I–" He let loose another titanic belch. "Damn. Haven't eaten this good in forever."

He picked up another slice of cake and proceeded to inhale it. Birdland had a clear mental image of how D'Agostino would look with the rest of that chicken stuffed down his throat. Fuming, he stalked over to deposit the pizza boxes on a table.

As he did, something occurred to him.

"Hey, Joe."

"Mrph?" He could hear the gangster swallow behind him. "What?"

Still looking at the boxes, Ben let a slow smile work up his face. "Didn't you say you were lactose intolerant?"

"What a–*BRRP*–bout it?"

This was too good to believe.

"Geez, Joe, seriously?" With that the grinning policeman turned and crossed his arms smugly over his chest. "I thought you guys were supposed to be big on food. Don't you know what goes into Hollandaise sauce? Or what makes risotto so creamy and delicious? And melted _butter_ , of all things?"

Judging by the looks on their faces, all of the government boys were strangers to a kitchen. They were as much in the dark as poor Dungaree. Being a bachelor himself, Ben did all his own cooking. And he had picked up a few pointers.

It looked like Dungaree wanted to say something, but a pronounced rumble from his stomach cut him off.

"Let me put it to you this way, Joe. That cake you're wolfing down? I made something just like it for my Mom's last birthday. She said it was the best she had ever tasted. And I told her that was probably because of the Mascarpone."

He didn't even bother to hide the glee he was feeling at this moment. "It's cheesecake, genius."

Dungaree's eyes slowly widened. Right then another audible groan emerged from his gut. His face went ashen, and he leapt to his feet, hands flying to cover his backside. "Ohhh, I'm about to _blow, GANGWAY!"_ Joe then raced frantically towards the bathroom.

"Hold it!" Nosegay shot up to block his path. He looked towards one of his subordinates. "Jones, did you check the lavatory prior to our entry?"

"MOVE IT, YA TWO-FACED RAT-LICKIN' BALLERINA SUNNUVA–"

"Yes, sir!" came Jones' prompt reply.

"All right, go ahead." The head agent stepped aside and Dungaree went speeding by him into the bathroom. They all heard the toilet seat drop, followed by…

"SANCTISSIMA! HOLY TRINITY BELOW, SPARE ME!"

Casually Ben strolled over and closed the bathroom door. He then turned back to his fellow law enforcement agents with the most innocent of expressions. "He's going to be in there for a while."

They all gave him identical evil glares which he accepted with great pride. For the next few minutes they were treated to loud groans and periodic cries of, "SON OF A SKULLGIRL!" and "I'M COMIN', MA!"

For his part, Ben helped himself to a slice of pizza. The feds glumly did the same, muttering amongst themselves about this and that. The young beat cop munched on his well-deserved repast. A few of Dungaree's more colorful exclamations gave him a deep belly laugh. It was so loud several of the units stationed down the hall came to ask what all the fuss was about. Nosegay had to do the explaining, which Birdland thanked his lucky stars to hear. The older agent shot him a withering glare as he retook his seat. Ben responded back with a look that clearly said, 'Hey, not my foul-up.'

All of a sudden, the noises from the bathroom ceased.

At first nobody commented on it. They were just glad for some peace and quiet. After a while, though, Ben started to feel the silence a little too acutely. He exchanged looks with some of the feds, and was mildly disturbed to find similar trepidation on their own normally impassive faces.

Agent Nosegay was the first to rise and approach the door. He gave a knock upon it. "Mr. D'Agostino? Everything all right in there?"

Silence.

Another firm rap. "Mr. D'Agostino... Joe!"

When no response came back, Nosegay wasted no time and flung open the door. Ben was right behind him as they sped into the washroom.

The smell hit him right away. Next thing he noticed was Dungaree Joe slouched on the toilet with his head between his knees. The first thought in Ben's head was, _'Holy Mother, he had a heart attack!'_

Only then did he notice red staining the back of that white bathrobe. More of it leaked down the side of the bowl in thick scarlet streaks.

Stunned, the cop could only stare as Nosegay sprang forward with a curse. He pulled D'Agostino off the porcelain throne. The gangster sagged like a puppet with its strings cut and collapsed to the floor. His eyes were wide open, shock and disbelief frozen on his features. There was a hole the size of a baseball blown through his chest.

Earnest Nosegay stared in disbelief at this utterly impossible sight, then whipped around, head searching from side to side as if trying to determine where the assassin might have come from. He sprang to the shower and yanked the curtain aside, but no one was hiding behind it. His jaw visibly tightened, and that normally staid figure turned to level a look of wild-eyed rage on the shocked men clustered at the door.

"How…" he spit through clenched teeth. "HOW?!"

A tiny plip sounded, like a penny being dropped into a fountain.

They all looked up then. Overhead, directly above the toilet, it soon became evident to everyone present there was a hole in the ceiling. As they watched, another bit of plaster fell into the bowl with a disturbing plop. The water that shot up from it was a muddy scarlet.

For a time everyone just stared.

Then Nosegay pulled a walkie-talkie from his vest and dashed forward, elbowing roughly past Birdland in the process. "All units, the asset is down! Repeat, the asset is down! The enemy is one floor above in the room directly over ours! Converge at once on the next floor! Lobby units, we need–!"

His next words were lost as he tore from the room, his men following close behind. Soon only Officer Birdland and the corpse of Dungaree Joe remained in the bathroom.

For a while Ben just stared at the deceased wiseguy, who stared right back. It was hard to tell which of them looked more amazed.

The Medici. Mother of Mercy… they didn't come with bombs or guns or poison, but with a plate of steamed cauliflower.

Ben moved numbly over to the toilet. Ignoring all the blood, organs and worse floating around in there, he looked up. Faintly visible through the hole was another ceiling identical to the one above his head. He could still hear D'Agostino bitching about how the rooms all looked the same. The floor plan was probably identical from one level to the next, which meant every room was stacked on top of the other. They must have figured out which one Joe was in somehow, but instead of charging in blind, they got him into a position where they would know precisely where he would be located. His old friends guessed Dungaree wouldn't be able to resist such a high-quality spread after weeks of cheap takeout. The walls were thin. Once they picked up on him cursing, it was all over. Move their toilet out of the way, and just fire straight down.

What kind of a _mind…?_

The sheer indignity of it all was shocking. This realization combined with the sickening smell from below caused his normally ironclad stomach to roil. Feeling a sudden urge to vomit, Ben dropped down by the bloody bowl.

And that was when he saw it.

On the floor by D'Agostino's corpse, unnoticed and unremarked, there lay a flower. It must have been knocked off when Nosegay moved the body. The petals were deep scarlet with pure white tips, concentric rings budding out from the center.

Having been a cop in New Meridian for years, Ben Birdland didn't need anyone to tell him he was looking at a dahlia.

 _ **FIN.**_


	2. Ode to Death

" _Leviathan? Is that an earthworm in my ear, or just you?"_

A reproving sigh came in response. "It pains me that our relationship need even involve such a conversation, my lady."

Ensconced in a barrow of soft earth, the freshly risen Squigly could feel a number of subterranean crawlers moving in their immediate vicinity. Being one of the undead certainly did entail experiences which weren't available to her when alive. Most of them she could have done without. Having her lips sewn shut ranked right at the top of the list, although due to their current position underground she was effectively blind and deaf in addition to being mute.

"But to answer your question, yes, that is me." The words of her Parasite sounded clear as day in spite of her technical internment. "I have burrowed towards the surface and some measure of sound is becoming clear. However rather than relay the information back to you, I will pass along any conversations which reach my ears directly into your own. This should grant us both a better idea of what to expect in the nest of vermin above before we make our dramatic entrance."

The tip of the dragon familiar's tail wiggled slightly as it entered her auditory canal, but Squigly experienced no distress. Truth be told, it was not the worst thing to go through her head in recent memory. That spot was reserved for the bullet that ended her life. Now a mere apparition in earthly form, the last remaining survivor of the Contiello family owed her mobility entirely to the influence of the latest Skullgirl. Without it she would simply be another well-dressed corpse in a box. Although precisely who did dress me like this?

To her surprise, music began to play close by.

"… your love… all it takes/ To… ep me alive, babycakes/"

Oh!

"Doesn't matter… a hearse or a limo/ As long as… built for two/ I'm yours always…"

It wouldn't be too far off to say her unbeating heart ached upon hearing those lyrics, made all the more poignant by their unnerving closeness to her situation. But Sienna Contiello still recognized this popular tune from back during her day. Of course one descended from her operatic lineage would never be allowed to perform something so plebeian in public. All the same, it had a pleasant melody, and had stuck in her head after hearing it once or twice. Someone up above was crooning this number to an audience. The thought of being onstage made her spirits sink. In her current reanimated condition, such a thing was out of the question. People would panic at the sight of an apparent agent of the Skullgirl.

"Forgive me, milady. I seem to have overshot the mark. We must be hearing activity from the club overhead. I will proceed lower towards the restricted levels."

" _As you say, Leviathan."_

The zombie-girl huddled a bit despondently in her earthen environment. She shouldn't let herself be distracted by remorse. Being dead was still quite new to her, and she could not be certain how many years had passed since the massacre of the Contiello. But judging by the perplexing changes observed in New Meridian it must be well over a decade. If she recalled correctly, a Skullgirl arose every seven years. Which must mean Leviathan had prevented her from falling under the reanimating power of the Skull Heart at least once before now. Only that was no longer the case. From the brief glimpse she had gotten after awaking, this new Skullgirl must be quite the formidable incarnation of the breed, despite her deceptive appearance of being no more than a young maid-servant. Even an ancient Parasite like Leviathan was unable to suppress her influence. It would not be wise to rush headlong into danger.

Though chiefly motivated by a desire to prevent the Skull Heart's new mistress from wreaking more havoc, Squigly did have a personal stake in all this. The memory of being resurrected by her own mother arose to trouble her. Back then she had fought with Leviathan at her side against Lorenzo's forces, until the end came quite suddenly. The Medici were still at the heart of this matter, of that she had no doubt. The new Skullgirl had gone to ground after that first big demonstration of her strength at Medici Tower. Perhaps she was recuperating from the ordeal, which must have taken its toll even on her? Being recently chosen, the Heart's power had not reached its peak. Whatever the case, Squigly could no longer get a clear feel for the Skullgirl's exact location. They would need more concrete information before proceeding any further.

"Ah-ha! Madame, I believe some measure of a conversation is taking place above! Let me burrow closer and try to ascertain a clearer picture."

But there were other people who had a vested interest in locating this lethal adversary. And if she knew the Medici, they would not be loafing idly about when a threat of this caliber was on the loose. As such she and Leviathan had taken the route less traveled, moving underground which her status as a zombie now allowed. With Medici Tower destroyed, they had chosen to infiltrate another familiar Mafia stronghold, known to her as a result of their families' dealings in the past. The River King Casino was a Medici nest and served as the locale for all manner of their activities, legal or not. Assuming that hadn't changed in the intervening years. It wasn't much, but perhaps they might glean some measure of the Skullgirl's whereabouts by listening in on their enemies.

And if doing so also afforded an opportunity to strike at Lorenzo Medici or any of his despicable brood, well, she was only too willing to share the grief.

"… relocate to a safehou…"

Eh? What was that? It sounded like Leviathan had tunneled sufficiently close to pick up on what was being said above. The deceased opera singer concentrated in an effort to elicit further details.

"… ot to worry, sir. Buzz is fully fitted and ready for action. He can handle anything Lab 8 or this new Skullgirl can throw at him!"

A pause.

"Well, no, not a building. I… didn't know she could do that, actually. Sorry, sir. Walked right into that one."

Upon hearing those words, a shock traveled up Squigly's spine.

"Squigly, isn't that…?"

" _Yes, I heard it too!"_

Her soul burned with outrage. Of all the despicable…!

"… get right on it, sir! Goodbye."

Following this there came the click of a telephone, and the sound of footsteps. But she had heard more than enough.

" _Leviathan!"_

"At your command, milady!"

"You got everything you need, Doc?"

"Yes, thank you, Philippe, let's be off. Ah… did the floor just shake, by any chance?"

Several people in the underground Medici lab turned in surprise as something shot straight through the concrete floor. It resembled a long white straw reaching practically to the ceiling. Before their eyes this unusual implement coiled downwards like a circular staircase. Gleaming yellow eyes perched on the head of the wyrm regarded them balefully. Then before anyone could react, the concrete split further, and within those winding coils there emerged in the manner of a pimento from a squashed olive the form of Sienna Contiello, aka Squigly.

Angry eyes took in their locale to focus in on a man in a brown leather smock wearing elbow-length rubber gloves gaping at her. Recognition was immediate. I knew it!

The sound of a pistol being cocked behind her drew all Squigly's attention.

"Geddown, Doc!"

Even as the first shot was fired the zombie soprano had already dropped to sit daintily with skirt spread. The bullet passed over them, and Leviathan swung low over the floor like a jump-rope, knocking tables and one astonished underworld underling off his feet. The goon spun through the air and hit the ground hard to lie senseless, his firearm flying away.

" _I have been shot in the head enough for two lifetimes, thank you very much!"_

Leviathan's tail sparked with purple fire, spearing straight and true to shatter the pistol in flight. Pieces went raining about the floor with small metallic clinks.

" _Now, then,"_ Squigly rose upright. _"I believe we can dispense with–"_

"SQUIGLY, BEWARE!"

 _"Oh!"_

A high-pitched grinding noise alerted them both. She had just enough time to wrap Leviathan into a coiled shield at her back before something slammed into him. The Parasite's cry of pain and rage caused panic to blossom in her. What's going on?!

Wasting no time, Squigly leapt across the laboratory. She landed lightly on her stockinged feet and spun about to get a clearer picture of their peril. Harsh white lamps cast spotlights throughout the otherwise darkened chamber. Mechanical equipment, surgical implements and welding torches gleamed with subdued menace on the tabletops. Along several walls were carefully pinned diagrams of the human body alongside schematics for intricate prostheses and other more unhealthy artifacts. Papers bearing medical reports and diagrams still drifted through the air from her attack.

In addition to all this disturbing paraphernalia were several large platforms that resembled operating tables, and rising off of one of these close to where she had stood was a menacing figure. A bulky mixture of metal and flesh, this hunch-backed nightmare still stood near seven feet tall with shoulders so broad and muscular his head looked miniscule by comparison. A red mask in the shape of a buzzard's cruelly curved beak covered his face with tubes leading into it. Overdeveloped muscles rippled under the pale red skin of arms and shoulders, while his torso was sealed in a hardy plate-metal shell resembling a bird's feathers. The legs were relatively short and squat compared to the rest of him, but they were thick as tree stumps and armored from hip to toe in shining steel.

An enormous black shield five feet long in the shape of an arrowhead was strapped to his left forearm. The titan-sized hand underneath it looked entirely mechanical, whirring and clicking as it flexed in anticipation. Most noticeable of all was his other arm. This one ended with a bullet-shaped gauntlet which served as the support for a gigantic saw-blade nearly a meter in diameter, the type used to carve up concrete pavement with ease. It was this whirring implement of amputation that Leviathan had managed to turn aside, though not without cost.

" _Are you alright, Leviathan?!"_

"Merely bruised pride, milady," her partner asserted with aplomb, though by the way he trembled it was clear that might not be strictly accurate. "I believe this lumbering lummox might be the 'Buzz' we so recently heard tell of."

Sienna Contiello drifted upright, crossing one long-sleeved arm over her breast to glower fiercely at their opponent. _"Then let us waste no time in striking him down! We still have a score to settle!"_

"Agreed!"

With that the Parasite coiled his tail against the ground behind her like a spring and launched the fighting pair forward swift as an arrow from a bow. Squigly's arms shot straight out with her serpentine ally winding around them for extra measure. "Dragon Strike!"

A shock traveled through both their bodies, however, as that tremendous war-shield rose faster than she had thought possible to block the assault. Broad as a table and thicker than a door, this warding wall gave not an inch against their unearthly might. At the same time Buzz slashed his namesake weapon below the shield's lip, aiming to chop her in half. Squigly gave a cry and dropped straight down, feeling the wind of that lethal disc as it passed overhead. On instinct she used the same move that had saved them before, lashing Leviathan out like a whip to collide forcefully against the mafia monstrosity's knees.

Instead of toppling him, however, this earned no more response than if he were rooted in the earth. A moment later the buzz-saw was coming around on its backstroke in an effort to behead the corpse-girl. In response she flipped onto her back, Leviathan lying beneath her. Her compatriot then executed a side-winding retreat like a snake that carried her well away from the reach of their enemy. Once safely out of range Sienna hopped to her feet in readiness for battle.

"Be on your guard," the Parasite intoned grimly. "This interloper is well-versed in combat."

" _Nevertheless, we shall not fail."_ As she spoke the girl's eyes drifted around the room. Soon enough she had spotted their true target. The man in the leather smock was inching along one wall keeping well away from their battle. His face was tense with worry, and he sweated visibly even while making his way towards what looked to be a large freight elevator. Oh no, you don't!

"SQUIGLY!"

Leviathan's warning brought her attention back to Buzz just in time to see him lift a propane canister used for welding in his metal hand and fling it towards them. Already Squigly was dodging nimbly to one side. It collided against a wall but thankfully did not explode. At the same time, however, she noticed Buzz drive the bottommost tip of his shield deep into the concrete floor, and he crouched behind it. If we are to defeat him, we must get in close. Perhaps an attack from behind? Squigly readied herself to dive back into the earth and…

Something flipped over the brawler's big shoulder. At first glance it resembled a pipette used for decorating cakes. This harmless impression was soon dispelled as from its tip there suddenly shot a long stream of flame that surged like a living thing, not at Squigly, but at the gas canister so recently lobbed.

" _AH!"_

The explosion rocked the building overhead. Already attempting to go underground, Squigly was caught off guard and flung headlong through the air. Leviathan had selflessly wound himself into a shield to defend his host from the worst of the blast, but he could do only so much. The two of them were thrown through tables and cabinets to smash into a bookshelf loaded with scientific journals. They collapsed to the ground, and a moment later the shelf rebounded forward with a creak to collapse atop them, pinning Squigly's legs beneath it.

Dazed, she looked around. Leviathan lay senseless beside her, smoke rising off him. It looked as though half the lab was ablaze. Emergency fire sprinklers had come on overhead, and they were soon doused in water.

Right then the sound of heavy feet approaching alerted her. A moment later Buzz came to loom over them. The pilot light on his flamethrower had been doused. Noticing this, he apparently decided against torching them. Instead he raised his right arm, the spinning saw smoking and grinding even as it sent droplets of water whirling out like a lawn sprinkler. Squigly stared in horror at her second imminent demise. With a grunt, the huge weapon fell.

"NO!"

Leviathan shot upward, his small fanged mouth agape. He caught the whirling blade between his teeth. Sparks flew as they collided, and the giant's swing was momentarily halted. However Buzz did not let up. Instead he put all his astonishing weight behind that implement and bore down. The white dragon was slowly forced back inch by inch, unable to counter so much mass in his awkward trapped position.

Dismayed at his sacrifice, Squigly strove to extricate herself unsuccessfully. She could feel the pain Leviathan's valiant act was causing him, her skull seeming to vibrate from tearing metal teeth. Soon it would fall and rip them both to pieces. The whine of the buzz-saw was loud in her ears.

Through the din of her own imminent dismemberment, she could also hear something else: the sound of someone coughing. Across the room, she spied the doctor from before crouched on the floor but still making a bid for freedom. He was almost to the elevator.

No.

Not for you. Not this time! A fury woke in her like she had not experienced before. Betrayer! For you…

" _There is no…"_

Leviathan's yellow eyes flared with eldritch power, causing Buzz to blink in sudden consternation.

" _ESCAPE!"_

A snap of violet flames, the sudden swelling of coils, and the mighty Parasite burst upwards with the roar of an elder drake unleashed. His limbless form briefly transformed into the mighty muscled torso of a god, clawed hands sweeping to either side of him as he unleashed a blast of purple wyvern fire so intense it made the exploding canister seem a match by comparison. Buzz was flung away with no more resistance than a kitten, tumbling over the floor end-over-end, his weapon-arm shattered into pieces. The bookshelf was reduced to scraps and splinters. Exhausted, Squigly crouched on her hands and knees, attempting to regain her strength. Once more in his regular serpent guise, Leviathan wound protectively around her defenseless form.

Meanwhile the man in the smock stared aghast at this display. Recovering from his shock, he began to scurry towards the exit.

"Do not move…"

The doctor froze.

"… Archibald _Tetch!"_

Slowly the person in question turned about to regard them. "Ah… I'm sorry," he stammered. "Have we met?"

The passage of years was evident in him. Archie Tetch, better known by his nom de plume of Architect, had been a man of middling build and no more than twenty years of age when she met him in life. Now he was best described as skeletal, limbs like sticks, eyes sunken into his head. His skin was a graveyard hue evident in those who spent all their waking hours indoors, although the untamed rosacea in both cheeks lent him a permanent air of adolescent embarrassment. He ran a hand over brown hair gone gray at the temples and now plastered against his skull by the fire suppressers.

By this time Squigly had shaken off the drain of battle enough to regain her feet. She studied their captive from across the room. For his part he examined her as well, a small blue-haired girl in candy-striped stockings and skull-emblazoned dress. After a few moments comprehension seemed to dawn upon him, and the Architect's eyes grew huge.

"Oh… Miss Contiello, it's you! What a surprise!" He awkwardly clambered upright, using a nearby chair for support. The grin he sported was abashed, like they were two old acquaintances bumping into one another on the street. "I must say, you haven't aged a day! I…"

Tetch's voice faltered as her bright red eyes narrowed. He took in the corpse-like pallor to her skin, stitched lips and undulating eel-dragon emerging from the cavity in her skull. The doctor rubbed his arm, glancing away in obvious discomfort. "Eh… well, walked right into that, I guess."

There it was again. Squigly well recalled the verbal tic which had made this man a target of merriment amongst his peers. Tetch was socially inept to the point where he seemed to gravitate towards the most awkward of topics, only catching his gaffe afterwards, which then led to that trademark acknowledgement. When they were introduced he humiliated himself in such a manner no less than three times 'til she couldn't help but giggle. Despite this handicap he had remained a cheerful and helpful soul, eager to demonstrate his inventions and positive they would serve a greater good if made available to the public.

It was time for answers.

" _How could you do this, Archibald?"_ she demanded of him.

He seemed puzzled, bobbing his head around in the nervous manner of a bird. "Do… what?"

She stalked forward then, and Archie slid along the wall to preserve the distance between them.

" _My family were your patrons! We funded your research! How could you serve the Medici after what they did to us?!"_

"Miss Contiello, ah… Squigly…" The Architect shrank in on himself. "Are you the new Skullgirl?"

"Answer the lady's question, _wretch,_ " Leviathan declared, frowning severely. "Lest we are forced to treat you with the same harsh physicality as your pet project."

Squigly had come to within a few yards of him. Tetch drew to a halt upon apparently realizing there would be no escape forthcoming. He hugged both hands beneath his armpits and stood there, miserable, wet and trembling. "Well, you see, ma'am, I don't… strictly serve the Medici at all."

" _Who, then?"_

At this, his face inexplicably broke into a bright, happy smile.

"The Dahlia, of course!"

Upon hearing this name a sharp spike of phantom pain went through her skull. The sensation felt so real it brought tears to her eyes. Inside her sleeves, hands clenched suddenly into fists. _"I BEG YOUR PARDON?!"_

"Yes, that's right!" he nodded, coming upright. The Architect now seemed animated by a force that caused him to forget the peril of his situation, and he began to talk excitedly in a manner so similar to what she remembered. "I am the main technician for the Black Dahlia! I see to her needs and provide any manner of upgrades or benefits she may require. Under my watch, her weapons systems and performance output have experienced a _300% improvement gain!_ Thanks in part to me, the Dahlia is the single greatest work of living art in New Meridian today, and possibly the world!"

"Hold your tongue, knave!" Leviathan rose to hover menacingly over her head like a cobra preparing to strike. "Are you so ignorant you do not even realize it was that odious woman who murdered the young lady you see before you?"

Archibald looked at the Parasite, then down at its host. "Oh. Sorry. Walked right into that one, huh?"

" _Archie,"_ she regarded him with a mixture of disgust and grief. _"When we were introduced, you told me you wanted to help people who had been wounded in the war! You said you could make the disabled walk again, and allow those whose bodies suffered grievous harm to lead healthy normal lives! You seemed so sincere in your hopes! How could you…"_ A note of steel entered her voice. _"How could you now spend your days crafting weapons for scum like this…"_ She indicated where the fallen Buzz lay unmoving. _"… and Black Dahlia, of all people!"_

"Well, you see, Miss Contiello, I just…"

His eyes drifted down to the floor, diseased red cheeks giving him the appearance of blushing.

"I fell in love with her, ma'am," he spoke softly.

Squigly could hardly believe her ears. Was this man serious? _"Love?"_ she repeated incredulously.

He raised his eyebrows, beaming with delight. "Oh, yes!"

It seemed neither she nor Leviathan knew how to respond to this. The Architect took their silence as permission to continue. "You see, the Medici killed everyone from our research department. All my friends and colleagues. After the Contiello fell, many of their holdings were destroyed or absorbed by the Medici. Some of us tried to flee to Lab 7, but before we could make it there, we were caught… by Black Dahlia!" His voice had assumed a wistful tone. "I had never seen anything so beautiful. Up until then I had never really known what it meant to fall in love. After a while I sort of gave up on the whole idea, and concentrated solely on my work. But that day, when our eyes met, for the very first time I understood! I understood what people had always been telling me! That person right there… I wanted her to notice me! I wanted to be of use to her, and be a part of her life in any way she would let me!"

His eyes closed blissfully. "And the Dahlia recognized my devotion! She let me live out of all of them, and brought me into her world. So that I might be of service to her and offer praise to her name! You asked me why I gave up helping those in need, and my answer is because I found a purpose that transcended the needs of mere humanity! Black Dahlia is a higher form of being! Her strength has kept the Medici in power without fail since before either of us was born. She is their guardian angel."

Right then, a very unpleasant smile came over Archie's face that made Squigly's undead skin crawl. He giggled.

"And… their angel of death!"

While she stared in dismay at the utterly inhuman transformation which had befallen the Architect, Leviathan dropped down to murmur into her ear. "Squigly… he is mad. The prospect of violent death he faced cost him his sanity, leaving only a worshipper of Thanatos!"

" _How horrible…"_ She gazed upon the person she had once known with a measure of pity now.

Archibald Tetch continued without having heard either of them. "The Dahlia is the one who decides when it is time for the Medici to die! She carries out their executions. So you see, Miss Contiello, if you've come back for vengeance, there is no need! Eventually all the Medici, from Lorenzo on down, will be granted death by Black Dahlia. It is simply up to her to decide when. And when she is ready…" He ducked his head again, whole face now red as a lovesick schoolboy. "… the Dahlia will grant me my end. The most beautiful, loving death in the whole world. For me!"

His innocent vapid expression caused a resurgence of loathing in her. _"You fool. Death is not loving! Take it from someone who knows firsthand: when the Dahlia kills you, she will feel no love. Only delight!"_

Startled, he drew in a quick breath, then slowly let it out.

"That's right… you mentioned before. You were already granted death by Black Dahlia. And yet now here you are, walking around fresh as a daisy." The Architect hesitated, giving his head a small shake. "Walked right into that one. I meant to say you spurn the peaceful end granted to you by the Dahlia! Miss Contiello…" He looked at her then, face gone sad and, much to her surprise, pitying. "I'm sorry for you… sorry that you couldn't appreciate the beautiful ending Black Dahlia orchestrated for you. But now that you've had a chance to think, don't you see… it's better for you to die! And remain dead. You were given a wondrous gift. The gift of death. It's one that you should treasure. Don't throw it away! Death is not something that should be taken from us! It–"

" _I've heard enough!"_ Angrily Squigly drew herself upright, glaring at the zealot with a vehemence that cost him his voice. _"For the atrocities you have helped commit, I should by all rights offer you a fitting end! But even if that is not the case, I will not tolerate your supporting these wholly reprehensible acts!"_

A new level of wariness crept over him, making him crouch down and regard her like a threat for the first time. "You do not decide when I die, young lady. Only Black Dahlia has that right!"

" _Should the Dahlia and I ever meet again, rest assured she will be made to pay for her crimes as well!"_

At these words, his thin, splotchy face slowly settled into an expression of cool reproach. "You'd do well not to underestimate my talents, Miss Contiello. It took everything you had just to defeat Buzz, and the enhancements I granted him are nothing compared to what I bestowed upon Black Dahlia over the years! I doubt there is anyone alive who could prove a match for her at this stage!"

Gazing at him, Squigly raised an arm and rubbed the back of her hand under Leviathan's chin, never taking her eyes from Tetch. _"In that case, I am more suited for the role than anyone!"_

His eyes grew distant, and he gave an abashed grin. "Ah… walked right into that one…"

As he spoke, the Architect's hand drifted down over the wall.

"… as did you!"

He pressed a certain point. There came a sharp click, and right then the floor beneath Squigly's feet split apart, dropping away to reveal a pit filled with whirling blades that suddenly roared to life.

" _AH!"_

She fell towards them with a cry.

"SQUIGLY!"

" _LEVIATHAN!"_

For a moment she felt the song of the afterlife, and Squigly reached for it blindly, becoming the negative absence of a living singing soul in the way only she could. Nature abhorred a vacuum, and the nearest soul handy rushed in to fill her place, switching them out as the body followed the spirit…

"AIIIEEEE!"

The zombie girl crumpled to her knees against the wall. Sickening sounds like a meat grinder continued at her back. Looking over one shoulder, she saw the open pit now engorged with blood and chopped flesh. More of it stained the ceiling or went spattering about the room. A single remarkably intact hand in a rubber glove lay a few feet away; the only remaining piece of Archibald Tetch left in this world. The sight of it made her tremble.

" _I didn't… Leviathan, it was an accident, I didn't plan to switch him out."_

"You need not apologize, Squigly," he responded back in subdued tones. "And it was no accident we saw here. Call it instead justice."

She gazed on that severed appendage, feeling no comfort in his pronouncement. _"Once he was a decent man, until he met the Dahlia."_

"As you said, she will be made to answer for that as well as many other crimes. But there is no time for sentiment. We must remember our original mission and seek out information on the Skullgirl."

" _Agreed. Where to start, though?"_

She looked around the room half-enveloped in fire and water. Movement caught her eye, and Squigly picked out the gunsel she had knocked out before back on his feet. He noticed her watching him and immediately dashed over to a door set in the wall, flinging it open to go tearing up the stairs.

" _After him!"_

"Tally-ho!"

They proceeded to give chase, eventually emerging into a long corridor which led them to another door. Upon opening this one they came out into the floor of the River King Casino itself. The bright lights and music, swirling people and expensive clothes; for a moment she was right back there onstage, about to perform an aria for expectant opera patrons.

This illusion was spoiled when a slot machine came flying at her.

" _OH!"_ Squigly hopped out of the way with the help of a push from Leviathan. The piece of gambling equipment smashed into the wall, sending coins spilling out as she came to rest. They rolled and slid under her feet, and the young zombie lost her balance to collapse on her rear with an undignified yelp. _"Ow,"_ she muttered.

"Take note," Leviathan warned. "We have another challenger, it seems."

She looked up. There was a semicircle of casino guests arrayed at a wide distance around them. Sauntering confidently into that cleared space there came a strange-looking girl. Hands placed on hips that swung boldly side to side with every step, this new face sported a tight-fitting tube top mini-skirt that showed off her eye-catching bust, as well as stockings with diamond patterns running up and down them. Her skin was a healthy brown tone and she had teal-tinted lips with a diamond tattoo of similar color on her cheek. As if that wasn't enough, on top of her head there was perched a Living Weapon with horns and two great orange gorilla-like arms that reached so long the knuckles dragged on the floor.

The flamboyant fighter stopped a ways off and spun to give the crowd a bow. They cheered her with great gusto, and she quickly came about to regard Squigly down on the floor.

"I'd say it's time for your curtain call," this black-eyed beauty said in husky tones, "but you already look like you've died onstage." She then crouched down in a fighter's stance, both sets of arms swinging eagerly from side to side. "Nobody makes trouble on Medici turf while I'm around!"

Squigly hopped up and assumed a stance in preparation for battle. _"We will not be daunted by a lowly mafia hooligan! Stand aside!"_

To this their opponent only grinned. "Showtime!" and sprang forward.

" _As you wish!"_ With that, the Contiello heiress and her guardian threw themselves into battle once more.

 _ **FIN.**_


	3. Forget-me-not

"They don't smell."

Startled, Filia looked up. "Excuse me?"

"I know, right?" The young man who had walked up to her boasted a silvery sheen to his skin that marked him as a Dagonian. A bright white fin atop his head flopped down to partially cover one eye. That combined with his superior height might have made for an intimidating introduction. But he had a friendly smile, and wore the uniform of those who worked here. Leaning on a broom, the boy indicated towards the blossoms she had been examining. "That flower, they've got no scent. I was really disappointed, because they're so big and pretty, I thought for sure the smell would be fantastic. Where I come from we don't have flowers. At least, not like the ones you have here."

He held out his hand. "I'm Rahna."

She accepted the handshake. "Filia."

"Nice."

His grip was strong. A stirring around her scalp made Filia quickly pull her fingers free. "Do you know what it's called?" she asked suddenly, indicating towards the plant. "I don't see a nametag."

He shrugged. "Ah, sorry, no. Must've been lost. Thanks for pointing it out, though. I'll let the staff know."

The girl blinked up at him from under her hat. "Oh, I'm sorry! I thought you worked here."

"Wow, you've got great eyes. I mean no, I mean… yes!" He laughed a little abashedly. "I'm just doing so smooth here, aren't I?" Filia couldn't help but grin at his obvious discomfort, well aware that her cheeks had colored a bit at the praise. This caused Rahna to turn his head away for a moment and take a deep breath before looking back to her. "Sorry. Let me try again. And don't smile at me like that, it breaks my concentration!"

She did as he asked, though it was clear by the way her puckered lips twitched she was having difficulty holding it in. Crimson eyes flickered around her surroundings. Farther down the garden path, a small knot of similarly dressed students as herself were following their guide, who was informing them about the different types of plants stored in this sprawling greenhouse. Along the red ceramic tile paths, there arose towering trees sprouting betwixt bushes that flourished exotic fronds and strange berries. Some of them had flowers whose stalks reached far above her head to brush the glass ceiling. Others sported leaves so thick and tough they felt like stone. Flowers bloomed in a multitude of petals and colors while water splashed in a small pond that sported lily pads and tiny toads. A lizard scuttled by her feet unnoticed.

Filia could not begin to recognize one-tenth of the plants stored here. She had been inspecting this specimen with particularly large and numerous petals when he came up to her. But by now Rahna had recovered himself and was speaking again.

"I'm a first-year marine biology student at the university. One of my professors has a grant to study the introduction of marine habitat flora to traditionally terrestrial atriums and vice versa, so me and a few other Dagonians volunteered to contribute what we could in exchange for a little extra credit. I'm helping this facility to prep for a new underwater exhibit that should be ready in a few months." He cocked a glance over her shoulder. "And judging by the uniform, I'm guessing you're with the group from the academy."

Filia glanced back. Her class had stopped by one of the larger displays of non-native plants and was attentively listening to their guide. Neither they nor Mrs. Victoria had noticed her absence yet, so she decided now would be a good time to capitalize on that. "Yes, and I really should be getting back. It was nice to meet you!" She gave a wave before turning away.

"Wait!"

Turning her head, Filia saw him reaching out to her. When he seemingly noticed this too, he quickly retracted his hand and began to twist the broom handle nervously. "Can I show you something? It won't take a minute."

The beautiful girl hesitated, debating. He seemed polite, and there shouldn't be any harm if they did sneak away for a minute or two. All the same…

" **You know she's underage, right, lover-boy?"**

Rahna's mouth fell open slightly, and he darted a quick look around. "Uh… what? Who said that?"

Grabbing the brim of her cap and pulling it down tightly, Filia offered him a brave smile. "That sounds fine! Please lead the way!"

He still seemed a bit confused, but ultimately nodded his head, face regaining a measure of eagerness. "Oh… awesome! Follow me!" Rahna then beckoned down another path that led to a glass door leading out of this area. She followed his lead, dropping back a few paces to take advantage of this opportunity for a private conversation.

"Samson, don't be so rude!" Filia protested under her breath. "He's sweet! And he hasn't done anything wrong."

" **Huh!"** a deep masculine voice growled from the vicinity of her crown. **"I'm just sayin', guys his age only want one thing from girls, and it ain't talk!"**

"Don't be like that," she pleaded. "I really just want to have a nice time on this field trip. Don't do anything unwarranted, okay? Please, Samson?"

He only grumbled in response but Filia was heartened all the same.

She continued through the door and into another room connected to the main building. For her part, the young lady was pleased at a chance to chat with anyone she didn't know. Filia had no idea what she might have been like before losing her memory, but friendliness still seemed to come naturally to her, which was an encouraging sign. And besides, whenever someone new introduced themselves, she always had a half-hearted hope that it was due to them recognizing her, which could potentially lead to regaining any lost memories. Granted that didn't seem to be the case here. Still, she wasn't about to assume the worst like her Parasite. Samson tended to be pretty judgmental from what she could see. It was hard to lend credit to his claims of having lived for centuries considering he seemed incapable of functioning in normal polite society. Maybe if she got a trim it might help…?

"It's in here." Rahna had stopped at another door whose glass frame was a deep blue color that prevented any indication of what lay beyond from escaping. When he opened it a strong smell came out. Filia wrinkled her nose a little, but at his encouragement she proceeded in.

This new room proved to be fashioned of the same aquamarine glass as the door. Everything had a subdued tint to it as a result. Even the lights overhead gave off a pale cerulean glow. There were large black bins up and down the walkways. Tubes and pipes led into the floor from these containers, but from what she could see, the only things inside them looked to be big flat shiny black rocks stacked haphazardly atop one another. Shelves a mere foot above them seemed to be made out of the same black mineral. No flowers of any kind presented themselves, and the stone floor looked damp.

"Ta-dah!" Rahna had come up to her after closing the door securely. "This is the first stage of our collaboration. These tubs you see here are chemically treated to handle the same salinity and pH you would find in the ocean without altering the water's content. We'll fill them with seawater, and then transplant our samples in here, after which we can record how they thrive. Everything's going to be of the non-mobile variety. There'll be all kinds of coral and sponges, seaweed, that sort of thing, maybe even some animals like anemones or sea cucumbers if we're feeling lucky. An underwater garden!"

"That sounds like fun." Filia glanced around, a little disappointed in not finding much to look at here. "Umm… is it always going to smell like this?"

"Oh, that." He motioned for her to follow him, and she obeyed. "No, we were just clearing out the pipes in here with chlorinated water. Some of them hadn't been used for a while and they needed to be decontaminated. The seawater will be circulated all throughout the different tanks in the preserve to simulate the ocean's natural environment, so we have to limit the chances of anything nasty getting spread around. But that's not why I brought you here."

By now her guide had stopped at a certain composition that looked like a tiny lagoon in the floor made of the same dark rocks that composed this setting. There was a particularly large flat stone which stood at the back of the pool, taller than her by about two feet and smooth as glass.

"Okay, stand right here!" Rahna took her hand and escorted her to a spot in front of the miniature lagoon. The contact made Filia's heart beat a little faster. Just thinking about the situation she was in only added to this sensation. She noticed how smooth the scales on his skin were, and how they appeared to glow in the blue lights above. A menacing rumble from Samson caused her slight distress, but by that time the boy had already let go and moved to where a spout emerged from the floor.

"Now look at the back of the pond."

She obeyed, observing that flat wall in anticipation. When he was assured of her undivided attention, Rahna spun the wheel.

There was a slight chugging of pressure through pipes, when without warning a sheet of water began to flow straight down the face of the rock and into the pool.

"Oh!" Filia exclaimed in surprise. For there in the stone's streaming surface she could now see herself reflected clear as day. The combination of water and polished black backdrop made for a liquid mirror of unearthly beauty. Mesmerized, the teenager gazed rapturously at this man-made marvel.

"What do you think?" Rahna asked, rubbing the side of his head sheepishly. "Nifty, huh? That's my biggest contribution so far. I call it the 'Veil of Thetis', Queen of the Sea."

"It's beautiful," she whispered happily, glad to be able to see this. Filia observed her own glowing features. She sent a delighted look his way before turning back to enjoy the illusion. On impulse she reached out to dip her fingers into the falling pane of water, diverting its course slightly just around the level of her sternum. Doing so caused a tingle of pleasure to shoot up her spine from the cold and the experience.

She shivered then.

"Filia? Are you alr…?"

Rahna's voice was fading. At the same time the sound of rushing water became louder. In front of her was her own face, but lightly tinted, as though seen through a piece of glass. Or a veil.

" **Filia?"**

She inhaled deeply, the sharp bite of chlorine flooded her nostrils, and just like that…

Memories.

* * *

She was swimming in the pool alone, lap after lap eating up the time. Filia felt confused, and upset. That much she could recall. Why? Something about an argument… two men yelling at one another, one old, the other younger. What they looked like didn't come back to her, only that it had gotten pretty loud. For some reason she felt they had been arguing about her.

Which was why she had come here, to the family's indoor pool. Donning her new one-piece navy blue swimsuit, she hadn't even taken the time to put on a cap. Just grabbed her goggles, slid them on and dove right in. The teenager wanted to be away from all the noise, underwater and moving where she couldn't hear anything beyond the surface of the pool. At first she just did breaststroke, the least demanding form. But that anxiety still coursed through her brain, and before she knew it she had graduated to freestyle, breathing in a controlled rhythm every third stroke. Exhaustion was what she needed, so that maybe her tired body would override the troubled thoughts that swooped in and out of her mind. Back and forth the young woman went from one end of the pool to the other.

She got faster, but it still wasn't enough. In desperation, Filia resorted to doing the butterfly, which required the most exertion and muscle power. After just two lengths her shoulders felt leaden and were starting to protest this treatment, but she did not relent. Over and again she forced herself to lift both arms at the same time, kicking with her legs like a dolphin, fighting the impression that she was growing heavier and sinking towards the bottom with every stroke.

How many can I do at most? 300 meters? 400? I've never gone that high. How many will it take? Until I'm too tired to be afraid?

The exhausted athlete was struggling just after doing a flip turn. With sudden certainty she knew this would be her last length. Her breathing had devolved to simply lurching upright and gasping for air only to flop gracelessly back down. I might not even make it and have to give up halfway. But I want to see for myself if I can.

Muscles protesting, lungs starving for oxygen, Filia soldiered on. She aimed for the terraced steps that led into the pool. It might mean dragging herself out on her hands and knees, but she could take it. For the time being, at least, this was the only thing she had to think about.

To her immense relief and somewhat pride, the girl found herself at the end of the pool. She awkwardly searched for the bottom with her feet, and finding it, proceeding to clamber forward until she could sit on the steps with her head above water. Panting painfully in and out, Filia allowed herself to feel a measure of accomplishment. Well, now I know I can do it. That's something, right?

When her breathing had finally resumed a more normal pace and her heart wasn't threatening to explode, the self-proclaimed champion swimmer reached up to grab the metal balustrade that ran down into the water. She used this to pull herself up to a standing position. Immediately feeling cold now that she was not in the heated pool, Filia decided she had gotten all that she could out of this. Turning, she trotted up the stairs and stepped out. Now where's my towel? I thought for sure I left it by the side for when I was done. Huh…

"Hello, dear."

Filia stopped moving altogether, one foot out of the water and one still in. Her hand clutched tight onto the pole to keep from collapsing. Now the chill she felt had nothing to do with temperature.

Looking up, she saw a woman standing a few feet away.

She was dressed in a deep purple evening gown with a slit up both sides. At first glance it looked like she had on pale stockings, but mechanical joints at the knees proved this to be an illusion, her only legwear being purple garters halfway up the thigh and high-heeled shoes. A large stiff half-cape draped around her shoulders rather resembled those white doily coasters you found at fancy restaurants. The lady looked tall, due in part to the pillbox fur hat she had on, a feathered diamond-shaped ruby pin flashing on one side. Two jagged locks of ivory-colored hair framed either side of her face, the rest being pulled up in a bun at back. No other features were evident. Instead a thick black veil fell from her hat to conceal her face completely, the type people wore at funerals _(how do I know that?)_. The only thing which could be made out was a single shining eye, and maybe the vaguest hint of a smile. One arm stayed totally hidden beneath that broad starched cape. The other covered in an elbow-length white glove was extended out to Filia holding a towel.

"Looking for this?"

The masked woman made no move towards her, merely continued proffering the fluffy towel. She wants me to come close and take it from her. Her, the... _(what is her name? I don't remember)_. Filia knew this lady. Whenever they came to visit her grandfather _(I have a grandfather? That's all I remember)_ , this shadowy figure was never far away. Standing off to one side, or moving slowly around the room. Elegant, without seeming to pay them much attention. Like a cat prowling about.

They had never spoken before. Not once in her life had Filia ever exchanged words with this person. She had heard her speak on a few occasions, and that was all. But sometimes, without any way of knowing precisely why, she got the uneasy feeling that veiled gaze was looking straight at her. Once or twice she chanced a quick peek herself to see if that was so, but it always seemed like the armed lady was focusing her attention elsewhere. Still, Filia could never rid herself of the sensation that she was forever being watched in this woman's presence.

There were people around their family who made her uncomfortable. Big men with hard faces who never smiled and ignored her for the most part, seen only briefly in passing. Lately when her body started to develop a few of them seemed to be looking at her more than usual, which only left Filia feeling more uncomfortable. She wasn't certain what precisely they did for her parents, but they didn't scare her. Not really. How could they, after having grown up around them all her life?

This lady was scary. She did things other people couldn't bring themselves to, not even those rough-looking men with guns. You could tell by looking at her, and the way she talked. The lady in the veil frightened Filia like no one she had ever met.

When it became obvious the girl was coming no closer, the woman cocked her head to one side and began slowly walking forward, heels clicking on the tiled floor. The most Filia could manage was to step completely out of the pool, so that she was not quite so disadvantaged when it came to height. A few seconds later they stood before one another.

"Did all that shouting upset you? Oh, poor thing," the deadly damsel purred. "They both care about you so much. It's just neither of them can agree on what's best for you."

Filia could say nothing, only stood there wet and afraid, feeling practically naked in her swimsuit. She couldn't stop shaking, and it was only getting worse.

"You're shivering, dear."

The lady bent down until they were practically face to face. Despite this nothing more could be made out behind the veil. That lone white eye traveled up and down her body.

"Are you cold? It looks like it to me."

There was a wicked smile to those words that made Filia's chest clench. The killer ( _I'm sure of it)_ rose up once more. "Oh, but look, you don't even have a cap on. You should be more careful, Filia. All that chlorine might bleach your pretty hair."

The cape moved, and from behind it there emerged a gigantic gun.

"Here. Let me dry you off."

Her mouth fell open. Before she could speak Filia found the big fluffy towel had settled on her head. Strong fingers then rubbed the cloth gently against wet locks. There too was something long and hard against the nape of her neck, drawing up her hair to pile atop her crown, but it didn't hurt. The towel fell down to cover her eyes so she couldn't see anything past it. Then there was just the feeling of an assured tousling.

This process lasted only a short time. But throughout that whole experience, the frightened teen didn't dare to move. Each breath came trembling in and out of her mouth. An urge to run away gripped her, yet still she remained paralyzed. Blindly she waited for this torture to end.

After a while the rubbing slowed, then stopped. In spite of this the folds of cloth remained covering her eyes. Filia gazed straight ahead into those blank depths, hands gripped feverishly behind her back.

There was movement then. She couldn't make out what it might be. A moment later something brushed slowly, gently, over her mouth. The girl closed her eyes, choking down a sob.

"All done."

Next thing she knew the towel was draped around her shoulders. The lady in the veil stepped around to stand behind her. "You should get dressed. Dinner will be served soon." Gloved fingers pressed lightly between her bare shoulder blades. "Off you go."

Filia reached up to clutch the lagging ends of the towel securely. For a moment the only thing that made sense was to lunge backward, knock her into the pool, then run fast as she could and pray she made it to safety before the lady could extricate herself. Instead the exhausted girl took a step forward, then another, moving slowly and mechanically towards the exit. She fought to keep from hyperventilating. There was no noise behind her as she walked. But somehow Filia knew if she turned around, the lady would be right there just a few steps behind.

Even more certain than this was the sense of a gun barrel being aimed at the back of her head.

Don't turn around. Just keep walking, Filia. One step after another. Get out the door, away from here. Don't turn around. _Don't turn around!_ If you do…

She'll kill you.

At last she made it to the exit leading to the changing area. The door was against her palms, and she pushed it open just enough to slip inside, feeling absurdly safe. I made it!

Trembling with exhilaration, Filia collapsed to the floor, the heavy wooden plank closing firmly behind her. After a bit the girl curled her legs against her chest and wrapped her arms around them, face buried in both knees. Only then did the sobs come, like a stopper being pulled in an attempt to drain out all that fear and anguish.

Behind her, the slow click of heels came clear now, moving away to finally disappear.

* * *

"Filia? What's wrong?"

Rahna. That was his name. He was speaking to her, just a few paces away, but Filia couldn't tear her eyes from that wall of water. I… remembered. I remembered something! Samson, I…!

She raised both hands out towards her reflection, seeing the joy alight in her features.

" **Filia, don't…!"**

A flash, and everything in her field of vision went white.

 _Hands outstretched, she carefully pushed open the door a bit, trying not to make a sound._

 _The room beyond was dark. A shaft of moonlight fell through the crack of heavy curtains covering a tall bay window. There were white things floating through the beam, glowing from that luminescence. At first she thought it must be snow. But then she realized they were feathers. White feathers, drifting down to fill the air._

 _Crouched with one leg up on the side of a four-poster bed was the lady in the veil. Smoke drifted from the barrel of that customized grenade launcher attached to her arm. Her free hand was holding down a pillow, bloody feathers spilling from its exploded contents. Dangling off the edge of the bed, there was an arm and a leg, still twitching in their death throes. Filia knew whom they belonged to, and she let loose a throat-rending scream._

 _The Dahlia turned, and saw her._

 _Then she was running, screaming, bumping into things while voices rose from rooms all around her. She could almost hear them saying, 'Don't let anyone catch you! Get away, get away! Run, Filia, don't let Black Dahlia catch you! Run away…'_

" **FILIA!"**

The girl screamed out loud before collapsing, but as Rahna reached for her something dark and wild exploded out to slam into him. He crashed painfully into several tubs, knocking over the contents to lie dazed.

"What's going on here?!"

Looking up, Samson saw Mrs. Victoria striding into the room, her charges clustered anxiously at the door behind her. In moments she had moved to crouch beside the unconscious student, examining her before turning to the Parasite growing out of her inky tresses. "Care to explain this, freeloader?"

She then took note of the Dagonian youth sprawled amidst the bins, and her eyes narrowed in swift-building wrath. Before she could get the wrong idea, Samson swiftly rose to his defense. **"The kid wasn't to blame. He's not at fault here, he was just giving her a tour, that's all."**

"Oh?" the voluptuous taskmistress turned back to the Parasite, red lips dipping in a frown. "Then just who is to blame?"

There was a noted apprehension even in that hairy face. **"Look, can we skip the interrogation at least until we get Filia somewhere more comfortable? This floor's wet, in case you haven't noticed."**

The teacher glared from behind flashing spectacles, before swiftly and assuredly bending to pick up Filia's unconscious form. Cradled against her ample chest, she then carried her back outside, the other students pushing against one another to make way. Mrs. Victoria spoke briefly to the center guide, who nodded in understanding then hurried anxiously past to attend to the fallen university student.

Five minutes later Filia lay curled on a bench in the arboretum, resting peacefully with her head in Mrs. Victoria's lap. She had assured the students their friend was alright before instructing them to continue on their tour with a new greenhouse staff member leading them. Meanwhile her amnesiac patient had not regained consciousness, which gave her a chance to ask a few questions to the other person in the know.

"So what happened?"

Shifting restlessly in his housing of hair, the Parasite fixed inhuman red and yellow eyes on her before responding. **"Kid had a relapse. A memory. Pretty bad one too, from what I could tell. She passed out just like that."**

"Just like that, huh?" the private school teacher spoke sternly. "And I suppose you had nothing to do with it?"

" **Hey, listen, lady,"** he shot back. **"I'd never do anything to hurt this girl, you understand? We're partners. Whatever I do, it's always with her best interest at heart!"**

"Does that include keeping her from knowing anything at all about herself? Or fending off those who might be able to tell her?"

The ancient entity did not appear cowed at all when he retorted, **"You don't know what you're talking about. All you need to know is I'll protect her from any threat. Even the ones inside her head if I have to."**

Mrs. Victoria lifted her chin to gaze down at him condemningly. "As an educator, I believe very firmly that knowledge is power. It can also serve as a warning. To let us recognize when someone might pose a threat. Knowing how naïve this girl can be at the best of times, do you think having no memories, good or bad, will protect her? Shouldn't she be allowed to decide for herself if someone might have cause to do her harm?"

His limited facial features managed to grow grim. **"Lady, some people you don't need memories of to know they're bad. You can tell just by looking at 'em."**

She studied the living bad hair day for a moment. Beneath them Filia stirred and shifted in an effort to get more comfortable, but still did not wake. Her two guardians chose not to discuss anything more beyond that.

* * *

"I'm fine, really," Filia assured the other girls as she stepped off the bus. "I think the smell of the chlorine made me dizzy or something. That's all."

A gaggle of anxious children moved off towards the school building, still hovering anxiously around their classmate. Mrs. Victoria climbed down and stood on the sidewalk watching them, arms crossed over her chest. Apparently the incident had passed without anyone getting hurt one way or another (that foreign university student being a possible exception). Something to be thankful for, at any rate. For now, she would just have to look after her girls as best she could. Behind her the bus pulled away, and still the tall well-endowed woman stood where she was.

After a while, though, she turned and leveled a dire glare over one shoulder.

Further up the street, a black sedan loitered by the curb, standing out among the more flashy vehicles favored by Maplecrest residents. After a few moments it pulled away and began to slowly glide down the lane.

When it drew up alongside her, all Mrs. Victoria saw were dark-tinted windows. One of them was opened slightly, however, and from this she caught a brief glimpse of a veiled face that might have belonged to a woman. For some odd reason, she got the impression this person was smiling at her.

The sedan continued without pause to turn a corner and disappear. Still, Mrs. Victoria remained on that curb for a long time, debating over what had happened today.

* * *

Rahna rose up from his crouch with a groan, feeling recent injuries protest ever so noticeably. His parents had warned him about city girls. Yet all the same, he didn't consider today to be a complete loss. The only thing worse than striking out was not trying at all. You never know who might turn out to be the one. His bosses weren't that upset. They seemed to have accepted his account of today's excitement to a general degree.

He studied the Veil of Thetis setup. There were some deep grooves gouged into its surface now. How they came to be there was not something he could start to explain. Just one more element to a story whose details he would probably never know.

For what it's worth, Rahna didn't think Filia was a bad person. She hadn't meant to knock him out, that much was clear. Maybe there was a chance they could still hook up, just for a milkshake maybe, nothing serious, or how about…

Movement from the corner of one eye caught his attention. Looking towards the preserve's entrance, Rahna thought he saw someone coming up to it. Perceived blurrily through the tinted glass there might have been the silhouette of a woman. Could he be seeing that right? The facility was closed right now.

"Is someone there?" he called out.

The figure behind the door did not respond. After a few seconds it drew back, disappearing soon after. With a shrug, Rahna began collecting his tools and notes. In just under a minute he had cleared up the environment to his satisfaction. Everything should work out well. Tomorrow they could try filling the tanks to make sure they didn't leak and test the circulation system. He felt reasonably certain they would make the deadline his professor had insisted on for this stage of the…

What felt like a sledgehammer slammed into the back of his neck. The boy collapsed like a jellyfish out of water. The shock was so great he could only gape wordlessly, gills fluttering and tears building in his eyes.

Lying there helpless, Rahna felt the crook of an arm encircle his neck, jerking him up to dangle a scant foot off the floor. Through the confusion and building terror, he felt something brush against his ear, and a cold voice whispered, "Princesses are supposed to kiss frogs, not fish."

From all along both forearm and bicep, two matching short blades shot out. That inhumanly powerful limb then curled with a noise like scissors coming together. There came a gurgling quickly cut off.

A silver-scaled head fell into the lagoon to bob up and down.

* * *

" **What is it, Filia?"**

"I don't know." The young amnesiac held up the brown paper-wrapped package the size of a shoebox, inspecting it from all sides. "It's addressed to me, but there's no return address." She opened her front door and entered the apartment she shared with Samson. Moving to a table, she sat down and began to unwrap this mystery item. As she did, an unusual smell touched her nostrils.

" **Smells like dead fish,"** her partner groused. **"Maybe we shouldn't open it?"**

"Well, I want to find out what someone took the time to send me. Who knows, it might be nice!"

" **All right, but back up and let me do it! No telling what's inside."**

She obeyed. Long strands of super-powerful hair wound from her scalp and coiled forward to easily rip apart the package. In moments the paper was off, the box was open, and drawing closer Filia found herself looking at what looked like a bunch of newspaper. For a moment she simply frowned in puzzlement at this. Peeling back a fold of newsprint, she caught a flash of something silvery. Upon unfolding the rest, she found herself greeted by…

 **"Surprise, surprise. A dead fish. Is this somebody's idea of a joke?"**

Filia had no idea. It looked like a salmon, perhaps, but that still didn't explain what it was doing in there. For that matter…

"Why is its head cut off?"

" **Got me. Hey, look, there's something else beside it."**

Reaching in a long strand of hair, Samson withdrew a single flower, red with numerous small blossoms. He brought it over to Filia, who sniffed it automatically, only to find the bloom had no scent. For some reason this flower looked familiar, kind of like the ones she had seen at the arboretum the other day.

" **Any idea what kind it is?"**

She stared at this odd pair of items, feeling a disturbing prickle go up her spine.

"No," Filia finally stated, placing the flower back in the box and closing the lid. "I don't."

 _ **FIN.**_


End file.
